


So If You're Lonely

by tortueux



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Boss Louis, Bottom Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Smut, Top Harry, Writer Harry, and also later, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortueux/pseuds/tortueux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis solves Harry's case of a three year writer's block, that should be the end of it. Done. Everyone wins. </p><p>But with a dimpled smile like that, how could Louis say no to more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	So If You're Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larryisdead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryisdead/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy! :)

Honestly, Louis' job was draining the life out of him.

What job, you may ask? Literary management. Which, simply put, meant he had to work with writers to help them along their way, with everything from story development to marketing. Sounds broad enough, right? Well, he also had the absolute _pleasure_ of juggling some of the absolute most difficult writers that may have ever lived on the face of the Earth.

Mostly it was their lack of punctuality. The word 'deadline' hardly meant anything to them, or him, anymore. Sure, the combination of every one of their problems put together was the source of his stress. But, there was still one specific writer that was always causing Louis the most trouble, the most sleep deprivation, and the most headaches.

Harry Styles.

Harry was one of those young writers that was showered with raving reviews and crowned a critics' wet dream one second, and then utterly forgotten the next. Not because his new works weren't good, no. Louis bet they would be good, better than good. Phenomenal, even. It was his _lack_ of new works.

Harry hadn't written a book in over three years, after his first and only bestseller. At the age of only nineteen he had written it, and it had almost immediately been claimed a work of literary genius.

Harry's style was sentimental and poetic, the character development was nothing short of extraordinary, and the ending just open enough to keep the readers thinking once they'd finished reading his work.

The critics ate it up.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, because it's been three years and Harry has yet to produce another book. Harry's called up Louis too many times to count, at any time of the day, yelling excitedly about his most recent brilliant idea, but he'd always lose interest. He claimed that the motivation had left him just as fast as it came, and Louis would roll his eyes, all the while listening to Harry run his mouth about why the book wouldn't have sold anyway.

Sometimes Harry would go through with his story ideas, and he'd write at least two hundred pages until he decided it wasn't good enough. Louis couldn't see why Harry was so hard on himself. He had read many of his unfinished manuscripts himself and couldn't spot one problem or reason to completely desert it. Though, Harry still always managed to find a reason, and he'd spout exactly where things started to go wrong. It became something of a routine, and one Louis found seemingly never ending.

 

It was ten in the evening when Louis got the call. A groan of exasperation found its way out his mouth as his phone continued to ring loudly. He had already had a long day, not to mention only four hours of sleep the night before. He was not in the mood to deal with any of his writer's antics right now, _especially_ –

"Harry," Louis read the caller ID aloud. He wasn't sure if he was really expecting it to be anyone else.

Louis pressed answer and lifted the phone up to his ear while leaning back onto his bed.

"Harry, what is it? I was just about to go to bed, you better have a damn good reason for this."

"I'm done."

Louis' immediate thought was 'done' as in 'done with a piece of work', to which Louis would be ecstatic about.

But then Harry finished, each word dripping with dread, "I'm done with writing."

Before Louis could even say a word – a word about how idiotic Harry was being – Harry's rambling began.

"Louis, God, I can't do it! Nothing ever comes out right. It's hopeless, really. It's hopeless. I'll never write again," Harry let it stumble out, sounding desperate. Louis had never heard Harry like this before. He's heard him upset, and distressed, but never this, well, hopeless.

"Harry…"

"This is it, Louis. I'm serious this time. I swear, I'm serious. I used up all of my inspiration too fast, that's probably it –"

"Harry!" Louis shouted into the phone, which finally caused Harry's rambling to cease. Occasionally he would get like this where he couldn't stop talking. His voice wasn't even fast, not at all, but everything would just bubble out of him like hot water boiling over. "Just listen to me. You said inspiration, right? Well, lucky for you, that's something you can get back."

There was a rustling sound on the other line, then a subtle 'hmph'. At least Louis had gotten his attention now.

"I'm right, I know. So how about," Louis thought for a second before finishing, "How about you go find some inspiration?"

"Sure, that sounds great," Harry muttered, voice obviously filled to the brim with sarcasm, "With what money?"

"Ugh." Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. Sure, Harry wasn't the richest man, living mainly off of the ever dwindling sales of his last book. But with that kind of attitude, Louis wasn't surprised Harry had gotten to this breaking point. Sometimes he could be so dense. "It doesn't have to be a fucking expedition, could just be something you've never experienced."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, which Louis knew was a sign that Harry was thinking over his words. That was a good then, they were making some kind of progress.

"Well," Harry started slowly, "There is one thing…"

"Yeah, and what is it?" Louis asked, sinking his head deeper into his pillow, dreading his current conversation because he'd favor a nap right about now.

"It's stupid, actually," Harry responded tightly. "Just a little thing. Not really worth it, um…" Harry trailed off, but Louis wouldn't be having any of that.

"Come on, are you really going to end your career over a little thing then? Just tell me, I'll even – I'll even help you out with it, okay?" Louis promised, with as much sincerity in his voice he could muster up. No matter how difficult Harry was to deal with, he still tried to help him as much as he could.

Because he was his client, of course.

"I've never, uhhh, gononadate…" Harry trailed off on the last few words, and Louis had no idea what he said.

"What?"

"Never… uhhh…"

"If you aren't going to speak proper English, then I don't know what to tell you –"

"I've never gone on a date before, okay?!" Harry blurted loudly, sounding on the verge of either crying or laughing. Truth be told, Louis wasn't sure which he felt like doing either.

"I've had partners, and, um, my fair share of one night stands," Harry continued, voice thick now, with emotion that Louis couldn't help but hear clearly, "But never a real, proper date. And I just feel like… like I'm missing out, you know? Because I don't know. I don't know that feeling, and what kind of writer would I be to write only what I _think_ , and not what I _know_? Nothing comes out right, and I keep – I can't –"

Harry cut himself off right there, and Louis heard him take a deep breath, then sigh out, "Sorry."

Louis didn't have to think much to figure this one out. As the pieces had fit themselves together on their own, it appeared. He knew he was left with only one option.

"Don't be sorry. Look at this as one step closer to being the kind of writer you want to be, yeah?" he assured him.

"But – what – how –"

"I'm going to set you up on a date."

 

Louis didn't expect Harry to agree to it right away. But he knew he would eventually. Louis' intuition was a remarkably foreseeing intuition, and it wasn't about to fail him any time soon.

Harry, on the other hand, claimed he would never, ever, not in a million years let Louis set him up on a date, and a _blind_ date at that. He was so intent on this decision in fact, that he gave Louis the generous gift of constantly calling him to remind him. Just in case Louis had forgotten, you know. He was calling him every day that week up until Friday, when Harry rang on Louis' flat doorbell to share it with him personally.

Thing is, he also came in a dress shirt, so. There was that.

Louis was smirking as he opened the door, revealing a sheepish Harry rocking back and forth on his heels. Which, by the way, he did have, though they were small. Louis didn't have a clue why Harry would wear boots with heels when he was already tall enough. Or Louis just didn't like his shortness being emphasized.

"So, you changed your mind, huh?" Louis quipped, cocking a hip to lean against the doorframe.

Harry silently nodded, raking a hand through his long, smooth curls. Louis might have been more than impressed at the transformation from the hastily dressed, bed-headed Harry he knew, to this posh, clean-cut man standing before him. I mean, was that coat Burberry? Louis was certain it was. It fit his slim, tall frame perfectly. Yet, he was still wearing his typical black skinny jeans. And, for whatever reason, he made it work.

"Come in, come in." Louis slid fully against the side of the doorframe to let Harry pass- squeeze -through. Louis could have sworn he had seen the tips of Harry's ears turn a shade of red, just for a second, but thought nothing of it and closed the door behind him.

Harry stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looking unsure of where to go. Louis couldn't help but chuckle at that. He received quite the glare from Harry in return.

Louis walked passed Harry to sit on one of his sofas, gesturing for Harry to take a seat on the other. Harry complied, sitting down and resting his hands in his lap. That's when Louis got a closer look at Harry, at how nervous he really was. His right leg was bouncing quickly up and down, and his forehead was slightly shining from the cold sweat he was working up.

"You're just bursting with excitement, aren't you?"

"Don't push it," Harry snapped, and Louis knew it took a lot to make Harry snap. "This is already embarrassing as it is, I mean," he wiped the backside of his hand across his forehead, "This has to be… the most embarrassing night of my life."

"It hasn't even started yet, how can you say that!" Louis exclaimed, flopping back into his sofa and throwing up his arms to rest behind his neck.

"Wait," Harry breathed, eyes widening. His wide green eyes were trained on Louis and his mouth was slightly agape, "Does that mean it's going to get worse?"

Louis had tried so very hard to stay serious (not really), but he had to let a grin spread across his face as he saw Harry's hilariously clueless one. And with Louis smiling, Harry couldn't help but crack a small smile as well.

"Fingers crossed," Louis smiled, and whether he meant it was or wasn’t he left up to Harry's interpretation.

 

"I don't even know their name."

The car ride had been fairly quiet. Louis had set up the date at an Italian restaurant not far from his flat. It was one of those real fancy ones, the ones that needed reservations and all that. He decided if Harry wanted to experience a proper date, why not go the full nine yards?

"'They' are a 'her', Harry, and her name is Marilyn."

They were currently sitting in the waiting area. Or rather, Louis was sitting and Harry was standing. When they had arrived at the restaurant, there had been just a few seats left. Louis had gone up to the hostess stand to confirm the reservation he had made for seven. When Louis got back, all the seats were taken, and Harry was seated in the middle.

Harry had given his seat to Louis even though, as Louis told him, he wasn't even the one who was going to eat here. And that he should be leaving right now anyway, since the date was only in fifteen minutes. But Harry convinced him to stay, saying that there was a big chance he would leave before seven if Louis wasn't here to make him stay. Which was most likely true, knowing Harry.

"Like Marilyn Monroe."

"I guess, I don't know – wait!"

Louis stood up, bumped his shoulder into Harry lightly and nodded at the young woman currently entering through the door. With her blonde hair done in soft waves and body clad in a smart red dress, Louis could tell his old flat mate really went all out.

After he had promised to set Harry up, the first person he thought of was Marilyn. One quick call and a one picture sent of Harry on one of his good days was all it took to get her to accept. Honestly, there could be no way Harry wouldn't like her. She was such a sweet person, and gorgeous, too. He had enjoyed sharing a flat with her; she never caused any trouble and made a killer spaghetti and meatballs.

Smiling, we waved to her, and she returned the smile while walking over.

"Hey, Louis," she greeted him, giving him a quick hug. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry looking a bit… disgruntled? Jealous? His green eyes were shooting daggers so he had a feeling it was leaning more towards jealous. But jealous on the first date within the first few seconds of meeting her? Well – nevermind.

That does actually sound like something Harry would do, Louis figured.

"And you must be Harry," Marilyn turned to Harry, her words pulling him out of whatever he had been in.

"Oh – yes, yeah," he flashed her a smile, all traces of nervousness seemingly falling away, "I'm Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Marilyn simpered shyly at that, responding, "You, too."

Louis visibly gawked at the moment he just witnessed. This man, who just moments before was, frankly, a complete mess, was now a natural charmer. He could physically feel himself turn into a third wheel in less than a second. Which, he guessed, was a good thing. As this was their date, not his.

"Styles?" the hostess called out from the stand, causing all three heads to turn to her.

 "Well, that's my queue to go," Louis announced, turning to leave. His job here was done, so maybe he could slip away like some kind of masked hero. Or a snake. Something like that.

"Wait," Harry caught the back of Louis' shirt between his fingers, causing him to halt his way to the door and turn around. "I'd just, um…"

"What?" Louis asked, looking behind Harry at Marilyn speaking to the hostess now, motioning at Harry. It was very evident that she liked Harry, so Louis swore if this was Harry backing out at the last minute, he might turn into a real snake just to bite his head off.

"I'd like to say thank you."

That made Louis' gaze fall to Harry, who was looking at him intently. Louis found it kind of funny after all that fussing, Harry was still grateful. What a big, fat 'I told you so'. A smile crept its way onto Louis' face.

"I knew you'd come around!" Louis grinned, lightly punching the side of Harry's arm. He barely budged.

"Yeah," he agreed, but distractedly. Harry's eyes stayed stuck on Louis'. He opened his mouth slightly, then shut it quickly. He had obviously wanted to say something else, but instead he let his hold on Louis' shirt go and walked back to Marilyn, who was smiling up at him as the hostess guided them farther into the restaurant.

 

He held a meeting over the phone with one of his clients, Greg, and after hitting the end call button, he felt like falling to the ground in exhaust. Tonight wasn't his night, though, as he got another call from another client, inquiring on whether they should keep the epilogue or trash it. The hours passed slowly, droning on until they became nothing but numbers that muddled together within Louis' mind.

He couldn't help but feel it felt odd not receiving one call from Harry that night. Usually he was the first to call, especially at a time like this, which was nearing midnight. But it was a good change, he assured himself. It was good that Harry was going to get some firsthand experience for a change.

He removed himself from his desk chair and padded to his kitchen, where he made himself a cup of coffee.

 

Louis woke up to the loud blare of his phone ringing. He groaned, flipping over in his bed onto his stomach. He hadn't had the best sleep last night. He was finally able to go to bed at about two, but the next two hours after that were filled with restless tossing and turning. He knew he shouldn't have drank that coffee that late.

He slid his hand over his screen sloppily, pressing the speaker button.

"Yeah?" he grumbled groggily into his pillow, and a voice far too excited for six in the fucking morning responded.

"Louis!" Harry yelled back, audio cracking from the sheer volume.

"Wha?"

"My date went as planned, thanks for crossing your fingers." Louis was confused, granted memory always seem faded in the moments after being _abruptly_ woken up.

"Wha –"

"I think I got my inspiration, I even wrote a bit straight when I got home," Harry gushed, but Louis couldn't find it in himself to share the same level of enthusiasm.

"Well, what happened last night?" he asked simply, sitting up on his bed and making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Since he had taken the time to set up the thing, he at least hoped to know how it went. By the news of Harry writing, he took it it went well, but he still wanted to hear about it.

Harry paused, then asked with caution, "You're not going to ask about what I wrote?"

"I could honestly care less about what you wrote at the moment. I want to know what happened on that date of yours."

Part of Louis expected for Harry to question him more on why he wanted to know about his personal life instead of what he wrote, but the other part was hardly surprised as Harry told him everything. He told Louis how sweet Marilyn was, how they didn't really have much in common, but really, what did that have to do with love?

Louis wanted to jump in there, and tell him that it actually had a lot to do with love, and to not be so idealistic. He decided against it, though, because this was Harry after all. Practically the King of Idealism he was talking to right now. He probably believed in love at first sight.

After they said their goodbyes the line went dead, Louis regretted not telling Harry he was happy for him. Because he _was_ happy for him, he was happy he was happy enough to call him and tell him how happy he was… if that made any sense. Rather than calling him back, Louis spit out the toothpaste from his mouth into the sink, watching it twirl in the water and down the drain.

 

Louis walked into his office building at nine, begrudgingly. His job gave him the option of working at home, so obviously he preferred working from home. His boss has called him that morning, telling him he had to be in the office today, saying he had some new potential clients he wanted to show him. Great, more work.

He made his way to his desk after taking the elevator with twelve or so other people. It didn't take long for Louis to overhear the latest gossip that was spreading around his work-place. There was always some kind of rumor flying around. A couple weeks ago everyone and their mother had been sure that Darlene, who was two cubicles down from Louis, had died. Or according to the west wing of the building, moved to Singapore. The next Monday she showed up at work and she was confused but delighted by the flowers laying on her desk.

Sometimes Louis wondered if cubicles were specifically made for ease of access to gossip.

"Did you hear about the date Harry Styles went on?"

"I heard he's interested in blondes at the moment."

"I didn't know Harry was single, I hear that he's dating."

Louis hated rumors, because to him, they were practically like a virus. They moved from person to person, spreading through the masses, and undeniably getting wore as they go. RIP Darlene.

He sat himself down and groaned, and rubbing at his temples in frustration when his phone started buzzing. He pulled his phone out of his backpack, and quickly answered it with a half-hearted, "Louis speaking."

"Jesus!" Harry wailed on the other line, the sound of something shattering registered in the background, "You scared me."

Louis leaned back in his reclining chair and turned his phone to speaker phone, resting it on his desk. "How the – you called me, Harry."

"I didn't expect you to answer," he responded distantly, then a crash, with a yelp following soon after.

Louis pursed his lips. "I always answer."

The sound of Harry shuffling around sounded through the phone, then a response, "I know that, and I just hit my pinky toe off of my dresser and knocked my penny jar over." Louis could see him frowning through the phone as he spoke.

"Why did you call me, Harry?"

"I just wanted to know why I'm suddenly so popular. I just got a call this morning asking if I was single," Harry grumbled. Louis couldn't believe the rumors had somehow gotten all the way to Harry. Well, never mind, he could believe it.

"They want to know about you and blondie."

"Marilyn," Harry corrected matter-of-factly, as if Louis hadn't lived with her for a year.

"I know her name, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything to that, and Louis sighed. He knew he was being a bit mean. He didn't mean to be, honest. He just didn't want to talk about this certain… topic at the moment.

"I've got work to do, Harry. You know, you aren't my only client, as much as I'd like that to be so." The twinge of sarcasm at the end must have flew right past Harry's radar, as he just continued.

But Harry being Harry didn't seem to mind his tone of voice, or maybe he just didn't notice. He was always so patient, at least when it came to Louis.

"I'm in a predicament, Louis. I've gotten some inspiration for my book like we planned, but I want a real relationship before I can finish it."

"You don't need one, you want one. And we're not even sure if having a real relationship will help you when it comes to writing –"

"No," Harry cut him off, voice confident, "I know it will. The main problem was that I didn't have any inspiration, right? I got about a chapter worth of inspiration from last night, and thank you for that, but it just isn't enough. I have to know more."

"Alright, I understand, Harry. But I'm your manager, not your babysitter. I did what I could, now you have to figure the rest out by yourself. I'm trusting you can do that, yes? Now, I've got to go. I have some potential new clients to look over –"

"So, you're busy?" Louis couldn't help but hear the faint sound of disappointment in Harry's voice.

"I'm busy right now, yes."

"When will you not be busy, then?"

Louis turned the phone off of speaker and brought it up to his ear. "Listen, Harry, I really can't help you with this kind of thing. It's all up to you now. Just, like, hit up Marilyn and try to make it work like they do in those romance books you read, I don't know. Bye." He hung up before Harry had a chance to oppose.

 

Louis hadn't meant for work to completely fill his schedule for a whole three weeks, and he didn't mean to ignore Harry's calls. He really didn't. But it didn't help that every time the man called him, it was to talk about his most recent date with Marilyn, and barely about anything having to do with writing. Louis knew he didn't have any time for that. There were deadlines approaching at a rapid speed, so Harry's love life was at the bottom of the most important things list.

And, to be frank, Louis didn't want to hear about the same topic over and over, as apparently he had already signed up to hear every kind of rumor about Harry the moment he stepped foot in his office building. Over the course of those three weeks, daily calls turned to every other day, until none at all. Louis didn't deliberately try for that to happen, it just did.

But he couldn't really ignore him when he showed up at his door, could he?

 

Harry was panting, forehead wet with perspiration and shirt sticking to his chest with sweat. His hair was tied back in a bun, which was now almost falling undone. He had a look in his eyes that Louis had never seen before, and he had the slight crease of a frown between his brows. Louis went to ask him why the fuck looked like he just ran a marathon, when Harry answered for him, "I walked."

"What?"

"I walked from my flat because I couldn't find my keys."

Louis shook his head, gripping his doorknob. "No – I mean, yes – I mean – why?"

"I missed you."

Louis' brows creased in confusion, and Harry took a step toward him; Louis didn't take a step back.

"You wouldn't answer my calls, or my texts, and you've had no time for me. I'm not use to that. We used to talk every day," Harry explained, chest rising and falling quickly, and Louis guessed it wasn't a short walk to his flat from Harry's.

"Yeah, about work, but lately you –"

"We can talk about work, we can. _I_ can." Harry urged, frown falling from his face and replaced with a look of convincing. Louis wasn't convinced.

"Okay, then give me a call later and we will."

"No, I mean like right now. We can talk right now."

"I can't –"

"Why?" Harry's eyes narrowed and his stance became bolder, stronger, more confident.

"I have a meeting – Harry, look, call me later," Louis explained, exasperated, trying to inch Harry away from his door so he could close it.

"What part of 'I miss you' did you not understand?" Harry sighed, resting his hand on the door, which immediately dashed Louis' escape plan. Dammit. "You can hold your meeting over the phone, right?"

Louis nodded his head, going to speak again, but Harry beat him to it, "Then do that, and I'll just hang out here with you."

"No," Louis protested, "We're not –" Louis stopped, eyes latching onto Harry's, and he just stared. He stared and saw the raw desperation in Harry's eyes, and suddenly he lost all his words. He didn't want to say spending personal time with one of his clients was a little unprofessional, didn't want to tell Harry that they weren't technically friends, didn't want to question Harry on how much he missed him, or why, though he knew that those were all the things he should be saying rather than, "Okay."

 

"Yes, Greg. You can scrap page fifty-seven, just make sure it holds nothing of importance to the plot, and then send the book over to me. I'll take care of everything from there on out." Louis and Greg exchanged goodbyes, and then he set his phone on his coffee table. Harry walked in at that moment from the kitchen, resting his and Louis' cuppas on the table by Louis' phone, then tucked his lanky body into the sofa. His knees were bent and he was laying on his side, his head nearly in Louis' lap. Louis didn't move.

They were silent for a while, nothing but Louis' sips on his tea filling the room, until Harry spoke up.

"You've dated before, right?" Harry asked Louis, turning his head to look up at him.

Louis snorted, "Yeah, I have. I'm twenty-five, I'd hope I have."

Harry rolled onto his stomach, letting out a huff of mock annoyance. "I didn't mean it like that. I know you've dated before. It was just an opening to the topic I'm trying to discuss."

"Yeah, and what would that be?" Louis hummed, taking another sip of tea. It was good. He was surprised Harry had known exactly how he liked it.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said, you know, about not needing to date, but wanting to. Maybe I don't need to date. Maybe I could just talk to you about your past relationships," Harry suggested, pulling himself up into a sitting position, and Louis found himself missing the extra weight on the side his thigh.

"None of them ended well," Louis grimaced, casting his gaze to the ground.

Harry turned to face Louis, expression changing and stance changing to almost that of a therapist who was about to whip out a notepad and pen. "But, they started out just fine, right? I can write about a love story gone wrong, I just need some insight."

Louis opened his mouth to speak, and Harry quickly added, "But only if you want to."

Louis shook his head, leaning back onto the sofa. Might as well get comfortable. "It's fine, I mean, I don't mind. My last ex took my dog, and other good stuff."

"Good stuff?" Harry asked him, and Louis nodded.

So, Louis told Harry about Sean. He told him about his bright blue eyes and his dark black hair, about his leather jackets and his motorcycle. He told Harry about the time they went to the fair and Sean won him a stuffed bear, and how Louis had kissed him so hard he swore he could still feel the press of his lips on his every time he thought about it.

And he told Harry about their first fight, and how much Louis loved him even after he found out Sean would disappear in the middle of the night to god knows where. He told Harry about the night he had left Sean's flat and went home for the first time in a month, and how he'd cut a rip straight down that bear in anger. He told Harry that he had woken up to find Sean wrapped around him, and his bear squeezed between them, the rip all sewed up – which was horribly done, but it was the fact that Sean had even attempted to sew the bear back together.

"Why'd you two break up?" Harry asked after he finished.

Louis exhaled, spent from digging up all those memories. His heart didn't hurt anymore, but his head still did. "Besides all the lies and secrets, we just – we weren't compatible anymore, I guess."

"But you were in love, shouldn't that have been enough?" Harry's eyes were round as he asked.

"No, that's not how it works in the real world, Harry," Louis laughed bitterly, "I got a job doing what I love, even if I don't enjoy all the people I have to put up with," He gave Harry a pointed look, but Harry only stared at him, completely oblivious.

"And, Sean, he just, he stayed unemployed, partying and riding around on that damn motorcycle of his. We grew apart, and we didn't mean to, but it's not that we fell out of love. It's just that the love, it – it couldn’t hold us together like it used to anymore," Louis tried to explain, and he didn't miss the way Harry's features softened, or the way his jaw clenched and then loosened, his lips parting slightly.

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then his brows furrowed, "What about the dog?"

Louis smiled, genuinely smiled, because Harry didn't bother asking him anything pensive like, 'When'd you guys break up?' or 'Who dumped who?' No, instead, Harry asked about the dog Louis had forgot to mention.

"What about him?"

"Why don't you have him?" Harry asked him.

"I work too much, and when I first started my job I didn't work from home as often, so I wasn't around to take care of him. That being said, Sean had a legitimate reason to take Roger."

"Oh, I see," Harry sighed, patting Louis' thigh and moving to lay back down. Harry didn't ask anything after that, and neither did Louis. The topic seemed to have dropped, and the silence should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't.

 

They both ended up falling asleep on Louis' sofa. When Louis woke up, it was a quater past seven. He sighed, looking down to Harry's head fully in his lap now. He shook Harry's shoulder until Harry grumbled, stretching his long limbs. His legs ended up slipping off of the sofa, and hitting the coffee table. He jolted awake, cursing, hands reaching for his shins.

"It's time for you to go home," Louis mentioned sleepily.

Harry turned, stock still for a moment as he listened to the steady drumming on the roof. "It's raining," Harry responded, and just because nature had to prove a point, the room was illuminated in a flash of white as lightning struck outside and thunder roared above.

Louis shrugged, "I'll drive you."

Harry didn't protest, he just got up, made his way to Louis' door, and waited for Louis to slip his shoes and coat on. Harry slid into his boots with ease, and then he was opening Louis' door and ushering him outside. Louis' shoulders shook as the rain poured down on them as they made their way to Louis' car parked out front. Not until each of them had gotten seated and buckled up did Louis realize.

"I have no idea where you live."

He looked to his left at Harry, who was looking ahead through the windshield at the empty street flooding with rain. The sky was still fairly dark, being that early in the morning. He hadn't started the car yet, so the headlights weren't on. Only the street lamps shed any light on the man's profile, and reflected off his eyes to make them seem even greener. He lifted his hand and racked his fingers through his damp hair, already curling at the ends. Louis watched him until he turned his own head to Louis. That was when he quickly whipped his head forward, shoving his key into the ignition.

"I'll show you."

Louis nodded, pressing down on the gas pedal, taking the right Harry instructed him to.

 

Harry's complex was large, larger than Louis'. It was older and surrounded with greenery, shrubs and flowers and trees that surrounded the place in a way that gave the feel that it was a hidden away. The balusters of the stairs had bright vines wrapped around them, small violet flowers dotted in them. Louis suspected it was the reason Harry had walked him up the staircase instead of taking the elevator he had seen on the ground floor.

"Do you want to come in?" Harry asked him, standing before the door, and Louis shook his head.

"I've got to go back, Harry. It's, what," he unlocked his phone and looked at the time, "It's eight. I have work in an hour, and you live pretty far."

"Alright," Harry responded, turning around and pulling his keys out of his pocket, letting them dangle from his fingertips.

Harry turned back around, opening his mouth to speak and for some reason, Louis' stomach clenched in anticipation.

"See you later, Lou."

Louis didn't mean for his shoulders to slouch at that, but they did. "Yeah, see you later," he agreed, unsure of what he was expecting, or why he was disappointed at all. Louis heard Harry unlock his door and close it as he walked back down the staircase, water splashing under his feet with each step.

 

That rainy night was soon forgotten, and whatever kind of disappointment Louis held was soon erased when Harry called the next morning to see if they could meet at this café before work. He said he had some ideas he wanted to share with Louis, and Louis complied, since it meant Harry was really working on his book.

Turned out, Harry just wanted to hang out with him. Instead of manuscript in his hands like Louis had thought, Harry was holding two cups of coffee.

After that it became a thing, them hanging out. They'd discuss work on occasion, but more often than not they completely forgot about it.

It'd been three months since Harry's date, or more relative to Louis, three months since his and Harry's little friendship began. The time seemed to have flown by, and the only indication of it flying at all was the change it weather. It was getting colder, being December, but the rain had yet to seize and turn into snow.

They continued to go out, drink coffee, tell stupid jokes, and visit each other's places for talks, or movies, or just a bit of company. It was the most fun Louis had had in a long time. Before, his life was all work, and even though that mind set had gotten him to where he was, he missed having someone like Harry. Sean was never like Harry, he never laughed at all of Louis' jokes like Harry did, he never so blatantly admitted that he wanted to see him like Harry would. It was refreshing how easy it was to be with Harry.

Reality did come crashing down, as it always did in the best of times, when Louis' boss, Liam, mentioned that by Christmas break, all managers had to present to him their progress with each of their clients. Which meant Louis would have to show him Harry's progress. Which meant he would have to show him something that might get him fired.

So that Saturday, Louis decided instead of having a leisurely lunch with Harry, he would actually do his job and see how the book was coming along.

"Hey, Harold."

"Yeah, Lewis?"

They'd taken to giving each other these obnoxious nicknames after one afternoon Louis asked if Harold was Harry's full name. He had said, no, it wasn't, but Louis just laughed and continued to say it. 'Lewis' happened somewhere after that, probably after Louis mentioned he hated being called it.

"What'd you need?" Harry asked after Louis didn’t responded right away.

"Oh – I wanted to know how the book was coming along. I trust you've been working hard, yeah?"

Movement sounded through the phone after that, then the distinct sound of the shuffling of papers. "Uh, yeah – wait," Harry muttered, then more paper shuffling, and finally a sigh of relief. "Okay, I've got at least a hundred pages right here."

Louis was now the one letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm so proud of you," he admitted, and he swore he could even hear Harry's smile through the phone.

"Really?" Harry asked in awe, and Louis doesn't get it until he remembered he's never said he was proud of him before. Harry had never given him a chance to when he would trash his writing before Louis could be.

"Of course!" Louis confirms enthusiastically, "A hundred fucking pages, we should celebrate that." When Harry only sighed, Louis frowned, confused. He would've thought that Harry would love to. He thought they could've gone to –

"Sorry, I can't. I'm feeling a little under the weather," Harry interrupted Louis' thoughts, then let out a hoarse cough, muffled by probably his arm.

"Oh," Louis fish mouthed, and he could hear Harry's breathing through the phone, and yeah, it did sound a bit stuffed up. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks after a moment, because he still wants to see Harry. He honestly doesn't care if he gets sick.

"We could celebrate at my place?" Harry suggested hopefully, and Louis told him he'll be there in ten.

 

When the door opened, Louis thought he might have gotten Harry's address wrong, because there's a blonde standing in the doorway, and it was not Marilyn.

"You must be Louis." There's a smirk on this man's face and an Irish accent in his voice. Okay, so this blonde knew his name.

"Um, you aren't Harry…" he mumbled, getting ready to get the hell out of there.

"No, but I am," a hoarse voice spoke up from behind the blonde, and Harry was walking up to the doorway, pushing the other man out of the way. He had a long blue robe wrapped around himself and a pair of slippers on his feet. Louis thought it looked kind of cute, but not, like, cute. You know.

"Hey…" the blonde whined, but Harry just ignored him and smiled down at Louis, moving to the side to let him in.

"Who's he?" Louis nodded toward the blonde, and the blonde scoffed.

"You haven't told him about me, Harold?"

Harry laughed, and Louis frowned, because he was pretty sure only he was allowed to call Harry that.

"Louis, Niall. Niall, Louis," Harry said, gesturing toward the both of them, then sneezed into a tissue he had been holding. Rubbing his nose, he clarified further, "He's my flatmate."

"Oh, well – hey, mate." Louis stuck out his hand and Niall shook it hastily, throwing a coat on and slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

"He's always busy," Harry whispered to Louis as they watched the man scramble to get his keys from the kitchen counter.

"I've got to go, take care of the lad, will ya?" Niall called at Louis as he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

"Well, then –"

Harry shook his head, a small grin on his face. "He wasn't taking care of me, anyway. And it's just a cold." He sneezed right after that, burying his face in his arm. Then again.

Louis scanned the room for tissues, finding one box sitting on a table next to the sofa. He pulled one out and handed it to Harry, who nodded gratefully.

"You know, in hindsight, you probably shouldn't have come over. I don't want to get you sick," Harry commented, making his way to the sofa and laying down. Louis noticed he was too tall for the sofa, his feet hanging just off the edge. He sat down at the end next to Harry's feet and sighed.

"It's okay. I'd rather get sick with you than not see you at all." That made Harry pop his dimples and Louis laughed, because it was true. He couldn’t find it in himself to care if he got sick or not. "So, how are we supposed to celebrate?"

"Well… A head massage would be nice."

Louis chuckled, scooting over to the other end of the sofa. "I bet."

Louis first took his temperature with a thermometer, happy to see that he didn't have a fever. His nose is still stuffy, but Louis gave him some Benadryl and he currently had a cough drop in his mouth to soothe his throat.

Only after did Louis let Harry rest his head in his lap, fingers combing through his dark curly hair. They stayed like that for a long while, and it was like that other night, except now they were both awake and Louis could feel Harry's smile on his thigh. It was one of those moments where everything felt so perfect that you didn’t want to move, or it would all shatter.

Louis discovered he loved Harry's hair, a lot, Harry seemed to like his hands a lot, too. They didn't talk, not really, except for Louis' occasional question if he needed anything else. Harry would say no every time, and Louis liked to think it was because this was all he needed.

When Niall came home, Harry was fast asleep in Louis' lap, but Louis was as awake as he could ever be. Niall smiled, nodding his head to the door. Louis nodded in confirmation, gently lifting Harry's head from his lap and setting it on the sofa.

He drove home with a strange feeling on his skin, almost numb, but not quite.

 

Louis' birthday was coming up soon, in three days, actually, and he was _not_ sad that Harry got invited to Marilyn's Christmas Eve party. He couldn't be sad because Harry didn't even know that Louis' birthday was on Christmas Eve. He'd never told Harry, and Harry never asked.

So, when Harry called him to get his input on whether to go or not, Louis' knew his opinion would be a little… biased.

"Why're you asking me if you should hang out with your girlfriend or not?"

Harry sputtered into the phone at that, and Louis thought it must be because he was embarrassed. "No, no. Marilyn and I are friends, Lou."

"Mhm," Louis hummed, leaning back on his sofa and kicking his feet up on his coffee table. He dug into the bag of crisps in his hand, popping one into his mouth. Likely story, 'friends'. He could tell Harry was the modest type, probably wouldn't think of her as his girlfriend for a while. "Why'd I not hear of this, then?"

"Because you don't like me talking about us."

Louis stopped chewing, thinking over Harry's words. He thought he just didn't like hearing about Harry's love life. Common topics get tiring, after all, and hear all the gossip around the office didn't help. But, specifically them? No, Louis thought, because they would be kind of – well. It wasn't true, anyway. "What makes you say that?"

"Nevermind," Harry sighed, and the topic was dropped.

"So, you're going to Marilyn's party," Louis started, and it comes out more of a statement than a question like he wanted it to. He wasn't bitter.

"Unless something comes up," Harry responded offhandedly, and Louis doesn't want to get excited at that, but he does.

"Well, my birthday's Christmas Eve, I don't know…" Louis trailed off, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but it came off more despondent than anything. He didn’t want to guilt trip Harry into it; that was the last thing he wanted.

"I'd, um – I'll come over if you want me to," and before Louis could respond, Harry continued, "I'd much rather be with you instead of mingling with a bunch of strangers."

Louis could feel his heart jump at that as he gripped his phone tighter in happiness. Harry wanted to be with him. He was going to miss a party with his girlfriend-friend-thing, for _him_.

"Yeah," Louis breathed, "Okay. Okay, yeah." Louis stumbled over his words, stuffing crisps in his mouth because he doesn't want to talk right now, afraid that he'll say the wrong thing.

"I had a bit of a Christmas present for you as well," Harry told him, and Louis is barely listening because he's so happy. He hasn't spent a birthday with someone in too long, with his family far, busy schedule, and lack of, well, friends, he would usually spend it alone at home, watching reruns of Christmas movies on television. But not this time.

 

It was fifteen minutes to midnight, and Louis hardly heard the doorbell ring over the sound of how mad he was. He toyed with the thought of not answering, but the bell rang again, and again. So he trudged to the door, frown deepening, ready to go off at Harry. He would tell him how disappointed he was, he would tell him how he could've just told Louis that he didn't actually want to come and would rather be with Marilyn. Unlocking the door and whipping it open, he was met by a sight he was not expecting.

Harry stood drenched from head to toe, hair matted down to his face and breath coming out in gasps. In his arms was a small fluffy bundle of wet grey fur. The bundle wiggled in Harry's arms and Louis gawked, jaw dropping, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Roger?!" Louis yelled as the bundle jumped out of Harry's arms and into his, barking with joy. He shook his fur all over, sprinkling the cold water everywhere, but Louis couldn't even care, smiling so hard his face hurt as his lovely Roger licked at his face. "I missed you so much, baby!" He cried and Roger yelped in response.

"Happy birthday."

He peered at Harry over Roger's fluff. He had the softest expression, eyes half lidded and a gentle smile spread across his face like he just saw heaven, despite being visibly exhausted and probably freezing his ass off. Louis was taken aback, but smiled widely back. He grasped onto Roger more securely and moved to the side to let Harry in. He watched as Harry pulled off his shoes before entering, setting them neatly beside the door.

After closing the door, and before Louis could even ask, Harry informed him, "I know you are going to ask how."

"How?"

"It's kind of a long story…"

"I don't care, I need to know!" Louis insisted, tugging Harry to his sofa and setting Roger in his lap, stroking his fur mindlessly.

"Alright, well, I remembered how you said that, uh, Sean had kept your dog. And when you talked about Roger, you looked so sad, Lou. You helped me that day I was sick, so I wanted to help you, too," Harry told him.

"Wait, you've been planning this for months now?" Louis asked him, wanting to just pull Harry into him when he nodded.

"I knew it was a bit of a reach, but it wasn't impossible. I decided that I would get him back for you. I tried to find Sean's address online but I wasn't having any luck, so I asked Niall, and he had said that he knew a Sean from work just a month ago, and he turned out to be your Sean. Well, not _your_ Sean, but _Sean,_ as in –"

He was rambling, and Louis had the biggest smile on his face.

"– Anyway, he had invited all the lads from work to the pub. Niall said he was kind of a dick, but he wouldn't turn down a trip to the pub…

"Niall ended up having to drive him home after, so that's how he knew where his place was. He was supposed to drive me to his place at six so I could make it here on time, but he got held back after work. He basically sped us when he got out and, Louis, Roger was just right outside the door and it was the perfect opportunity. So I ran and got him and didn't look back. I didn't even think, I just did it. And then it started raining like this and Niall couldn't see the roads so we kind of got lost… But we got here eventually, as you can see."

Louis blinked.

"Oh, and I'm so sorry I'm late. Sorry."

Louis was left gaping once again, astonished at this man's perseverance.

"You really did that all for me?" he asked, because God, he's never had anyone do anything even close to what Harry had done that night. He could feel the back of his cheeks burning and his heart overflowing with so, so much happiness.

Harry made of face of genuine confusion at his question. Without a hint of hesitation, he answered simply, "Of course, Lou."

Louis felt Roger's small, wet nose sniffing, then turning his furry body and plopping himself down onto his lap once again. Tears were pricking his eyes as he flung himself at Harry, enveloping him in a deep hug (though Harry was more of enveloping Louis).

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Harry hugged back, nose in Louis' hair and arms wrapped around his upper back. He was cold, his damp clothes causing that, but still somehow so warm.

"You're welcome," Harry mumbled back, response muffled from his lips being pressed to the side of Louis' head.

It took a minute for Louis to realize that Harry was the kind of person that let the other person let go of a hug first. He gently pulled himself from Harry's grasp, wrapping his arms around his now damp shirt.

"Should I… go?" Harry asked, eyes not lifting from the ground.

"No!" Louis exclaimed, then cleared his throat, embarrassed and repeated more calmly, "No. Stay."

Harry shrugged, a subconscious grin spreading across his face. "Niall had probably started driving back to the flat by now, anyway."

Louis gave him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that were too large for him (but would probably fit Harry perfectly) and showed him to his shower. Louis didn't do much but listen to the steady drum of the shower from the living room as he waited for Harry to finish. He wasn't surprised as a wet head of hair plopped down on his lap about fifteen minutes later. Louis let his hands run through the damp curls on instinct.

When Louis woke up too early in the morning with a sore neck from sleeping sitting-up, he couldn't complain, because Harry was still asleep in his lap, and Louis' hand was still tangled in his hair.

And so it happened right then, as he watched Harry's chest rise and fall, his soft snore filling the otherwise silent room. Because to Louis, it was far from silent. The room was loud with Harry. It was loud with the way his hair fell against his face like a halo, loud with his feet dangling off the side of Louis' sofa because he was just a bit too tall, loud with the outline of his beautiful face illuminated by the street lamps outside.

That's when all the pieces came together, though it felt more like he was falling apart.

He was in love with Harry.

 

It wasn't like everything changed, except it did.

Louis drove Harry back to his flat the next morning in silence, holding the steering wheel a little too tightly. He got a text from Harry when he got home, asking if everything was alright. He didn’t reply.

The next couple of weeks, Louis found himself busy with editing Greg's book and juggling new author's and new books. It was times like these that he thanked his lucky stars for having a job this hectic; it was easy to get distracted. Not only that, but he had been having to go out and buy necessities for Roger. He had missed the dog so much, missed having the company. But there was another company he missed even more, one he didn't want to admit.

Harry called a few times, but it didn't feel the same as it did before. It never would, he thought. He wished he could go back and start all over, make it so he wasn’t in love with his own client, with a man who would never reciprocate those feelings, with Harry Styles.

Whenever Harry did call, Louis would try to keep the conversation solely focused on work. If Harry tried to change the topic from anything other than that, Louis would always find a way to veer away, asking how much he had written, or even how he had suddenly gotten a huge load of work and he had to go.

Meanwhile, Louis had continued to hear the buzz around the office, about Harry and Marilyn. Sometimes someone would mention how they had seen them together various places around town, undoubtedly having a date. His co-workers would coo and say 'how cute' while he silently melted in a pit of his own jealously.

He knew he shouldn't be this mad. He knew that in reality, Harry was probably just trying to figure his own life out with Marilyn. Maybe Harry was just as distraught about their lack of interaction, but not in the same way as Louis. Never in the same way.

It went on like this for a whole month, no face-to-face contact made whatsoever. It was fine.

Louis continued to tell himself that, it was fine, he was fine. He told himself over and over, every time Harry called, every time he heard Harry's name. He told himself every night before bed, which was the only time he wasn't distracted by work so, of course, his thoughts would drift to Harry. Sleep would call his name, but he was just unable to respond when it felt like someone was trying to rip his heart of his chest. Sometimes he would feel Roger curling up at the end of his bed around his feet, and it eased some kind of pain, but not nearly enough.

But he was fine, he was fine, he was fine, until one morning on a trip to the café for a cup of coffee, he saw something that made his stomach turn and his hand clench into a fist around the handle of the door before he could even pull it open.

Through the window he saw them, sat across from each other, Harry's head thrown back in a laugh at something she said.

Louis turned around faster than he should have, bumping harshly into someone behind. He couldn't hear their cursing at him when all he could hear was the sound of Harry's laugh repeating in his head, and the blaring reminder that he wasn't the one that pulled it out of him.

 

Another week passed by, leading up to the meeting Louis was currently in, sleep heavy on his eyelids, because lately he hadn't been getting any sleep. Before he at least got bad sleep, but now the extent was an hour a night… and those were the good nights.

It started as a typical meeting, dreadfully boring, when someone came bustling through the conference room door. Apologies were falling from their lips as they stood panting at the front of the room. Everyone in the room turned in their chairs, including Louis. His eyes widened and he gaped, slowly rising from his chair. He could feel all eyes on him now, especially his boss's. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best idea to have the reaction he did, since it gave them the idea that he had _any_ idea why Harry Styles was now in the room. Which he didn't.

"What's going on?" Liam, Louis' boss, asked him.

"Uh –" Louis' eyes met Harry's, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t let them. He felt his blood boil and his heart beat in his chest faster than what was healthy. He hadn't seen Harry in a month and he thought he had started to forget the color of his eyes, and the way his hair would curl around his neck, but now it was all right in front of him, and there was no way to escape that.

"I need help with my book and Louis has been ignoring me even though he's my manager," Harry replied bluntly, and now Louis wanted to punch him in the face.

"No, I haven't…" Louis hissed slowly, glancing at his boss, and then glaring at Harry with caution.

Harry shifted his stance under Louis' hard gaze. He threw his hands in the air, let them fall to his sides, then rests his hands on his hips while laughing in the fakest way, and it took Louis a minute to realize this must be Harry interpretation of 'playing it off'. If it was a month ago, Louis would’ve laughed at that, but now he couldn't. "Nevermind. That was lie. What I meant was –"

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Liam asked, ten other pairs of eyes staring at him, but the only pair Harry was looking at was Louis', the only pair that was struggling to look away.

"And I might've missed Louis."

The words hit Louis like a boulder. He was still standing when Harry said this, which was now most definitely the worst idea, because now he had all his co-workers staring from Harry to him. He felt his face heat up, and his neck, and his entire body, because he literally could not think of anything worse that Harry could've said. But he couldn't deny that the tense in his muscles were in happiness, because Harry did miss him. He did. He knew he did.

Louis tried his best to glare at Harry, but he guessed he was too red for him to notice. He didn't dare look at the expressions on the other's faces. Probably the faces of people who are going to tell everyone in the building about this insane meeting within five minutes of getting out. Louis mentally groaned. It took a second more for him to recover and regain his voice.

"You should go."

"No!" Harry whined, sounding like a young child that was refused what they wanted, "I don't want to talk on the phone. I want you to drink my tea and tell me –"

If it was even possible for Louis to get any redder, he did. He unconsciously let out a small huff, and he could feel his chest swelling from embarrassment. He could see Harry's small smirk from across the room, and it didn't help the situation in any way.

"Harry, please, later," Louis breathed, sitting himself back in his seat and sliding low in it, praying that Harry would eventually take a hint and leave.

"Louis' right," Liam agreed, standing from his chair to see Harry out, "You can have this talk with Louis at a later time."

Harry opened his mouth for one last plea, but he must have seen Louis half way submerged under the table, so instead he sighed, turning around and leading himself out before Liam could.

Louis was lucky Liam wasn't a cold-hearted bastard, because if he wanted to, he could have given Louis a demerit for interrupting a meeting – even though he wasn't the one who interrupted it. Instead, the meeting went on, except this time Louis wasn't barely asleep. Now he was more awake than he'd like to be, thinking more than he'd like to think. And it wasn't about the compatibility issues with the new system in the west wing.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he didn't dare check what it was. He was somehow in the clear with Liam and he wasn't about to push it any further.

Twenty minutes later when they filed out of the meeting room, Louis pulled out his phone and switched the screen on. There was one message from Harry that read, 'I meant it'. If Harry had said that to his face, Louis would've probably choked on this words, but his fingers must have had a mind of their own when he typed back, 'I know'. He turned his phone off after just fast enough so he didn't have enough time to regret it.

 

The absolute last thing Louis was anticipating when he got home was a Harry sitting on his sofa with his dog in his lap.

"What the fuck, Harry?!" Harry jumped up at Louis' yell, Roger scrambling away when Louis' backpack fell out of his hands hit the ground with a loud crash.

"I can ex –"

"How the hell even – how did you get in here?! What –"

"I said, I can explain!" Harry raised his voice, walking closer to Louis. Louis wanted to tell him to stop, stop getting closer. "I found the key under your door mat. And I'm here because you said you knew."

Louis frowned, stuttering uselessly, "I don't – I don't know your t-talking about –"

"Yes, you do," Harry breathed, trying to rest a hand on Louis' shoulder, but he flinched away. Louis saw the flash of hurt in Harry's eyes, but he continued on with a set of his jaw. "I don't know what I did, I don't – I don't know, but I'm sorry, and I miss you."

"Stop…" Louis whispered under his breath, and he could feel himself breaking, he could feel himself finally coming apart after all those weeks of pretending he was fine. He just wanted Harry to leave, but Harry must have taken his words a different way when he wrapped his arms tightly around Louis, craning his neck down to rest on his shoulder.

"I don't know what's been hurting you, Louis, but I know something is and I wish – I wish I could help. Just let me help," Harry rambled on in Louis' ear, but Louis wasn't listening when Harry's lips were pressed to him like that.

"Get off of me."

He said it colder than he meant to.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he quickly removed himself from Louis completely.

"Lou –" Harry started, and Louis felt suffocated, just wanted to breathe again, but he hasn't been able to breathe since Christmas.

"Don't say anything, please! I've been doing everything I could, Harry. Everything! I talk you through everything, I got you a girlfriend." Louis didn't notice Harry's faint frown in confusion at that last one, too much rage racing through his veins to see anything at all. "I've tried being you're friend –"

"Tried?" Harry asked meekly, hurt layered thickly in his voice. Louis didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes, tried! I tried so damn _hard_. I tried to be there for you in the way you wanted, but it's just not working anymore. You're hurting me, did you ever think of that?" And it was all just pouring out of Louis now, everything running out his mouth before he could even think twice.

Tears started pooling in Harry's eyes, whispering his words softly so he wouldn't choke on them. "Do you… hate me?"

Louis felt his entirety get painfully heavy; he really fucked up this time. All of his limbs felt like boulders, nailing him down to the ground. He could feel the pain in Harry's face in his bones, he could feel his stomach drop and his mouth drop open as well, saying the first thing he could think of.

"No, I – I think I love you." Louis inhaled sharply, in shock of what he just admitted. He clenched his jaw tight, looking down at his feet, wanting to cave into himself. He didn't dare look at Harry now. He couldn't stand to see his look of disgust, or anger, or worse: betrayal. He could practically feel Harry's eyes boring into the top of his head. Louis mentally punched himself. No, beat himself. With a bat.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I know you don't feel the same, I know –"

Louis never did get to finish his sentence as Harry pulled Louis into him, lips crashing into his. His hands gripped the sides of Louis' face so gently but securely, like he would disappear after he let go.

When they parted, Harry's eyes were still filled with tears, not yet spilling over, and red rimmed but wide open. He looked almost surprised that Louis was still there, still in his hold and barely an inch away from his face.

He looked so beautiful.

They both dived back into the kiss with force, lips molding together, moving together. A tongue slipped in somewhere, and now it was open mouthed, full of want and _need_. Harry had his hands at the bottom of Louis' back, drawing him closer, as close as they could possibly get. Louis had his hands in his hair, feeling the curls between his fingers and pulling him in, deepening the kiss even further. It was maddening how Harry's hands fit around Louis' waist perfectly. And when Louis caught Harry's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down lightly, forcing a low groan out from Harry's throat, it mixed in perfectly with the high pitched whine Louis let slip into Harry's mouth.

They kissed with urgency. They kissed like they were dying.

"Oh my god, Lou," Harry mumbled under his breath, leaning his forehead against Louis' as their lips finally parted, but both kept their eyes closed still. Louis could taste Harry's breath on his tongue, a mixture of mint and passion. He nudged his nose over Harry's, rubbing them together, and when Harry did it back, a smile found its way onto Louis' mouth. His chest hurt so good, like it could just burst, and he would feel just fine if it did.

Opening his eyes, he saw Harry was smiling as well. He was smiling everywhere; on his bruised lips, in his eyes, on the curve of Louis' waist where he was holding him. He was smiling at Louis, and all around Louis. He didn't want to ruin the moment with words, but he was coming back to his senses and needed to know.

"What – what about Mari –"

Harry cupped Louis' cheeks in his hands, shaking his head. "I told you she was a friend, Lou. I told you."

Louis nodded lazily, leaning into Harry's touch. "What does this mean?"

Harry just leaned in and planted a delicate kiss to Louis' cheek. Then moving toward his ear, he whispered eight little words.

"It means I think I love you, too."

 

 

It was their one month anniversary.

Louis knew it wasn't that long, but it felt like a whole life time. He felt like he had known Harry a whole life time.

You might ask how much had changed after they began dating, and the truth was, not much, really. Nothing big, nothing in the way they acted or moved around each other. There were still soft raking of fingers through each other's hair and overly loud laughs at each other's jokes. They felt just as they did before, except better. Louis found it kind of crazy how easy they fit, how easy it was to call Harry his.

Of course, there were still a few changes. One, for example, was introductions. Instead of, 'Hello, I'm Louis, and this is my client, Harry', it went more along the lines of, 'Hello, I'm Louis, and this is my beautiful boyfriend, Harry'. Louis had to say he very much enjoyed that change.

Another change was that kisses were now exchanged. And frequent. Not like Louis hadn't known before, but Harry was an overly affectionate person. Not that Louis didn't absolutely love it, which he did. He just wasn't so use to being kissed at anywhere, at any moment. Harry could swoop in out of nowhere and plant a kiss right on Louis' lips before Louis could even blink. Harry claimed it was his secret talent.

The most extreme change of all, though, was all Harry's own: his book.

Harry had speedily finished it just over a week after he asked Louis to be his boyfriend, which was the same day he admitted to Louis that he might love him. Yes, a whole book. Three-hundred and thirty-one pages. Harry had told him it just flowed out of him like a river of feeling, and Louis had told him to stop being such a sap and send the book over to him.

Harry hadn't told him a thing about it, claimed anything at all would be spoiler. He left Louis silently dying in anticipation for a whole five minutes, which was the amount of time it took for an email with a file that big to send, apparently.

Louis was excited because, well, why wouldn't he be? This was the highly anticipated second book from Harry Styles, this was his client's first book in three years, and this was his boyfriend's prized work of art. He couldn’t feel any happier for Harry, he could feel how important this book was to him. He understood that this was a new start for Harry, being that his exhaustingly long case of writer's block had finally come to an end. Even then, he couldn't shake the nervousness he held, too.

He knew this book would have something to do with himself. Harry made that clear when he called him up the next morning after they officially became boyfriends, yelling about how much he had written since the crack of dawn. Louis remembered smiling and thinking how some things never change.

So, yes, Louis read the book. Louis _read_ the book. Louis read that book like he had never read a book before, because it was so goddamn _good_. And good was an understatement. There were no words he could think of to even begin to describe it. It was almost like the book was alive, like it had a heartbeat, and with every beat Louis could feel the words vibrate and wind through his veins and to his own heart. He cried, he laughed, he yelled, and he swooned throughout the book, overcome with so much emotion that the line between its and his own started to blur.

And, yes, he could sense himself in the book. Some of the moments were moments he remembered from his own memory, some dialogue were words he had spoken from his own two lips. It felt like a little present from Harry, just for him. Anyone else who read this book wouldn't understand the underlying meaning, but Louis did.

The book was currently in editing. Fall of the next year was when it was due to be released. Being only winter-going-on-spring at the time, it was still a ways away, but Louis knew the time would fly past soon enough. Meanwhile, they could just enjoy the time with each other.

Time with each other like today, for instance.

Harry had sent him a text that morning that simply read, 'I've got a surprise for you! Picking you up at seven xx.' Louis didn't understand why Harry would send him a text saying he had a surprise for him when that completely defeated the purpose of a surprise, which was to actually make them a _surprise_. Louis texted him back those thoughts and Harry quickly replied back just a long row x's.

Louis filled his day with work as usual, but he took extra looks at the time throughout the day, counting down the hours, then minutes, until seven.

Louis was dressed and ready by six forty-five, sat on the edge of his sofa. Then on his other sofa. Then on the kitchen counter. When his clock ticked to seven, Louis was lying face down his on coffee table. He shot up and checked his hair quick, making sure to brush a few strands of his fringe from his eyes. He checked on Roger, who was sleeping soundly in his small bed next to the sofa. Louis crouched down and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his fur a bit.

When he got to the door, he realized Harry really did come at exactly seven. He imagined Harry waiting outside his door before that, checking his phone for the time until it was just right. Louis smiled at that and opened the door.

Harry had his head bowed and was down on one knee, one hand raised towards Louis. Louis' heart almost jumped right out of his throat because, holy shit, it was too early for that. Then Louis noticed it was a rose Harry was holding, not something else far more intimidating.

"What is this?" Louis asked, uncovering his mouth after covering it to hold in a gasp from his previous shock.

Harry lifted his head, green eyes shining as he replied, "A rose."

Louis snorted and swatted Harry's head lightly. "I can see that," Louis retorted, holding back a grin as he reached for Harry's empty hand, pull him up on both feet.

"I mean, what is _this_ ," Louis waving his hands around Harry at the word 'this'.

That caused Harry took look down at himself, and Louis did, too. Harry's outfit reminded him of that night months ago, the night of Harry's date. He looked similar to this, a dress shirt, black skinnies, and the same heeled boots. His hair fell in smooth, loose tendrils that greatly accompanied the blinding smile he gave Louis as they met gazes again.

"It's for you," Harry replied back simply, placing the rose in Louis' hand and closing his fingers for him around the stem.

Louis didn't know what to say as Harry guided him to his car, so he said nothing at all.

 

"Oh my God."

"You like it?"

Louis responded with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They were at Harry's flat, but some kind of alternate universe flat, since now it was littered with lit candles and vases of every flower Louis could think of. All the lights were off, with only the darkening sky from outside and the candles to brighten the room. At the dining table laid two plates opposite of each other, filled with some kind of delicious cuisine that made Louis' nose dance.

"I was terrified to leave the candles lit when I left, I thought I was going to burn the whole flat down."

Louis half laughed, half cried because he had never seen anything sweeter in his life, and he couldn't tell if he meant the room or Harry. He felt his eyes welling either way, so he turned and shoved his face on Harry's shoulder. Louis felt two arms wrapped around him gently and one hand pressed to onto his back, rubbing in soothing circular motions.

"Louis?"

"You almost burnt down your flat for me."

Harry was gleaming down at Louis when he pulled out of his grasp, dimples showing, eyes sparkling and brimming with so much love that Louis' heart was aching to kiss him.

"I guess I did, didn't I?"

 

They were kissing.

They ate dinner first, of course. Louis laughed at all of Harry's stupid jokes, and Harry tried his best – and failed – to look upset when Louis would steal a noodle or two from Harry's plate. They talked and talked about anything and everything, and if you were to ask Louis about what, he wouldn't be able to tell you. It was all due to that over flowing feeling when you look at someone just think, 'I could be anywhere or saying anything and still be the happiest person in the world with you'. Louis never used to know that feeling. He read it in books and saw it in movies, and that was the extent until he met Harry.

But now they were kissing. It had started on the sofa innocent enough. A nudge here, and cuddle there. Then it turned to full on making out and Harry had to scoop Louis up in his arms and walk them to his bedroom, lips still attached.

"I want you," He whispered in Harry's ear, and Harry groaned, letting his hips grind against Louis', desperate with the layers of clothes between them.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Yeah?" He asked, smirk spreading across his face. He liked how worked up Harry got from just words. He liked the way Harry's lips was red and swollen from the kissing, he knew his were too.

"Yeah."

He could feel Harry's cock under his arse, straining against the restriction of his zipper. He let his hand travel downward, squeezing under the tight fabric of his jeans.

“H-Harry,” Louis gasped, one of his hands going to fist at the kneck of his shirt. His hands are shaking, and sweats already forming on his brow.

“Yeah?”

“What’s this?” Louis breathes out, voice hoarse and slightly shaky.

“Dessert?” Harry laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his kneck and using the tip of his shoes to draw random circles into the floor. Louis swallows hard, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth because Harry’s such a dork.

“For me, or you?” Louis asked, quirking one eyebrow up at Harry.

“For both of us?”

“Okay,” Louis smiled.

The lights from the candles flickered across Harry’s frame, creating shadows that lick at every wall like that of a flame. His green eyes were trained on Louis, staring as he takes in all the hard work Harry had put in to make this night special.

Louis’ so shocked, so completely enamored, because only God knows how long it took him to hang fairy lights up on the walls of his bedroom.

Or how long it took to sike himself up for something like this that Louis could have _easily_ rejected of – he wouldn’t, of course, but he could.

Louis stopped staring at the flicking yellow flames that adorn the nightstand, and instead, he turned to look at Harry. Harry’s jaw looks sharper in the yellow light that the room’s illuminated in. His eyes were dark, the green barley visible – hidden behind dark shadows. But Louis could see it, could see his emerald green eyes because he knows they’re there. Knows that they’re green and big and wide and so beautiful.

Harry’s so beautiful.

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you,” Harry whispered, voice deeper, rough around the edges, yet so calming as he breaks the invisible barrier between them. That quiet barrier that once wafted through the air like the smell of vanilla from the candles had.

“Yeah,” Louis whispered, “Me too,” and he nodded his head numbly.

“And, even when we’re both old and grey, I’m still going to stare at you like I am now, and love you as much as I do now, okay? I’ll love you, for as long as you want me to.”

“Okay,” Louis choked out, throat starting to become sore because it feels like he’s choking on how much Harry loves him. _How much he loves Harry._

Harry’s hand brushed Louis’ forearm, but their eyes stay glued on each other, and when Harry’s hand curled around the nape of Louis’ kneck and his thumb tilts Louis’ chin up, Louis’ chest stutters.

His lashes fluttered closed, and the last thing he saw before he feels Harry’s lips touch his, is Harry’s pretty pink lips parting.

It’s rushed from the start, every hair on Louis’ body stands up, and every fiber of his being is on edge. Harry’s tongue entered Louis’ mouth with a soft whimper – from who, they don’t know. Louis’ hands fisted at Harry’s curls as he let Harry claim his mouth; tongue slipping past his lips and licking inside, teeth biting at his bottom lip, lips sucking on his until their bruised and swollen.

One of Harry’s hands moved to slip under the back of his shirt, thumb pressing into the dimples at the bottom of his spine until he’s arching and molding his body to fit Harry’s, while his other hand goes to cup one of his cheeks, groping and squeezing there.

“Bed,” Louis breathed against Harry’s lips, and Harry doesn’t miss a beat, both of his hands caging Louis’ hips, thumbs fitting into the dimples at the bottom of his spine like they belong there. 

Louis' legs parted just enough for Harry to slide between them, flattening their chests together so they could be as close as humanly possible. Their mouths slipped back together again, moving and tongues gliding against each other. He felt Harry's hands ghosting over his hips to his waist, not holding but letting them rest there, a simple touch that made Louis whine and wrap his arms around Harry's neck.

Harry groaned as Louis moved to straddle his hips, thighs framing his pelvis. _  
_

He leaned down, mouth going to Harry’s throat to suck a bruise there, and then his lips moved to Harry’s jaw, where he sucks another bruise. Harry’s hands slid down Louis back until they’re properly cupping his arse; nails biting into his skin through his pants. The little grunts and groans Harry kept letting out are officially Louis’ favorite noise, and when he latched his lips on the spot where Harry’s kneck and jaw meet, he was pleased with the way Harry bucked his hips up against his and whimpers.

Louis pulled away, eyes scanning over Harry’s face – at the way Harry’s bottom lip is stuck between his teeth, at the way his lashes create dark shadows under his eyes, at the way the candles lights make his profile even sharper.

“Need you,” Harry muttered against Louis lips, tongues coming out to lick across Louis bottom lip before nipping at it. Louis whimpered, nodding his head, hips slowly grinded into Harry’s.

Harry hissed, turning his head and effectively breaking their kiss. He forced Louis’ hips down harder while he thrusted up, hands gripping his bum so hard he’s pretty sure it’ll bruise.

“ _Louis,_ ” Harry moaned, Louis’ dead weight on top of Harry; heavy on his body, heavy on his mind, and heavy on his heart. Harry removed one of his hands from Louis’ arse and got a hand inbetween them, unbuttoning the fly of his jeans and Louis’.

Louis breathed a sigh of relief against Harry’s lips, rutting his hard cock faster against Harry’s, and then he sat up. Harry’s hands flew to Louis’ hips, holding him how he always did as Louis removes his shirt.

Harry sat up as well, taking off his own in the process. He didn't lie back down though, he just pulled Louis into his chest, mouth latching onto his neck as he felt Louis’ racing heart against his.

Harry tugged at Louis’ jeans. “Let’s get these off,” he suggests, and Louis doesn’t hesitate. He rose up on his knees, body illuminated in yellow light and dark shadows as he started working his pants and boxers off of his hips.

Harry gripped his waist, steadying him as he pulled and kicked until his pants are off, smirk evident when he looked back up at Harry. He flicked his fringe out of his face, completely ethereal and so fucking beautiful before him. Harry’s hands slipped down his waist until they cupped his bare bum, fingertips slipping between his cheeks. His eyes rolled back in his head, and a rumble falls into the deep room.

Louis stayed on his knees as Harry released his bum and shimmied out of his jeans as well, and then they’re both naked, clothes thrown on the floor at the foot of the bed; the only place where Harry hadn’t put candles at.

Louis leaned over Harry, elbows on either side of his head, leisurly kissing him – until Harry wrapped his hand around both his and Louis’ lengths. Louis whimpered, sound swallowed by the press of Harry’s tongues against his own. Harry slid his hand up their shafts, twisting his fist on the way up, flicking his thumb over their slits to make the glide easier.

“Shit,” Louis cursed, thursting into Harry’s fist, feeling Harry’s fingers curved along one side of his cock and Harry’s cock – hard and hot – on his other side. Harry grunted, moving his hand faster as Louis continued to fuck himself against Harry’s cock and into Harry’s wet fingers.

Louis heard as Harry fumbled a bit with his free hand for something, but he didn't open his eyes to look. He just kept kissing Harry, kept moaning as Harry stroked both of their dicks in a steady rhythm.

Then, he heard what sounds like a cap being popped open, but he still kept his eyes shut. He continued to keep his eyes shut only because he knew what Harry was about to do, and when Harry asked if he’s okay, hand slowing it’s pace on their cocks, he just nodded his head.

And then, he felt a slick, wet finger squeezing between his cheeks, and he stopped grinding his hips into Harry’s fist. He opened his eyes, and when he did, Harry was already looking at him. They just stared at each other, Louis’ hands moving to grip Harry’s shoulders as they panted into each other’s mouths.

“You’re perfect, Louis,” Harry wheezed out, and then he’s sliding his finger into Louis. Louis gasped, eyes squeezing shut, nails digging into Harry’s shoulders.

“ _Harry_ ,” He keened, a silent plea for more, because it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t really burn either, because Harry definitely used way to much lube to feel anything, really. So, Harry pushed in another, crooking them just right, and Louis’ rocked back on his fingers. _  
_

“You okay?” Harry asked him, pressing sporadic kisses along the column of his throat.

“Fucking fantastic," Louis choked out, throat tight, cock so hard, and body so ready.

Harry slipped in another finger, and Louis hissed, body trying to move away from the intursion. Harry gripped his hips to stop him from squirming to much.

“Shh, it's okay,” Harry told him, pressing his wet lips to Louis’ jaw.

Once he was prepped, Harry slipped his fingers out and then slicked himself up. Louis kissed him as he did so, arms crossed behind his head and lazily playing in his hair.

Once Harry was ready, Louis took in a quick breath, kissed Harry’s lips one more time, and when he felt Harry nudge the tip of his wet cock against his rim, bare and leaking pre-cum, he sank down.

Harry was instantly pressing kisses into his kiss, sucking bruises into his jaw, throat, and collarbones. He winces, wanting to pull off, but he just paused, half-way there.

“You okay? Do we need more lu–?”

“No, I’m fine,” Louis sighed, pecking Harry’s lips, and then sinking all the way down. Once Harry bottomed out, Louis took another breath, letting his body adjust and accomadate to Harry’s size.

Harry rubbed at his hip with one hand, while the other held his hip, thumb digging into that damn dimple.

He leaned over Harry again, kissing his lips, knees bracketing his waist as he rose up, tip of Harry’s wet cock tugging at his hole, and then he dropped back down. He whined.

He whined so loud and needy, and then he did it again, hips stuttering when the thick crown of Harry’s dick hits his prostate.

“ _Harry_!” He keened, hips grinding against Harry’s as his cock slides against his prostate insistently.

“Yeah? Feel good, Lou?” Harry breathed, hands flying to his ass and touching where his cock was sliding in and out of Louis.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Louis whined, “So good.” He continued bouncing up and down on Harry, cock slapping against his and Harry’s stomachs.

Louis gripped his wet cock clumsily, hand stroking over it in tandum with his bounces, and then he’s came.

“F- _uck_ ,” and his hips stuttered, rythym faultering. Harry gripped his hips, lifted him up, and then thrusted into his tight, pliant body as Louis started coming down from his high. He chased his climax fast and hard, dick nailing Louis’ prostate blindly as he came inside of him.

Louis whimpered one last time, biting at the inside of his wrist, cock giving a fleeble twitch as Harry came.

Harry released his hips, Louis falling on top of him tiredly.

Harry pulled out, and they continued to lay there, both of them too tired to clean up.

"Hey," Harry breathed, looking down at Louis, who looked up.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," and Harry said it in such a way that all Louis could do was grin lazily into his neck and say he loved him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my most amazing friend, Alani, for helping me SO much with this fic. I never would have finished without this amazing girl... Alani, you are my angel!!
> 
> I would also like to tell leedslouve, thank you for this prompt! I hope you like it. :)
> 
> And thank you for reading, too!


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